


Give Me My Face Back

by capped



Category: MCU Sebastian Stan - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sebastian Stan - Fandom, SteveBucky - Fandom, Stucky - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Domestic Avengers, MCU Sebastian Stan, MCU Sebastian Stan and Bucky Barnes teamup, Sebastian Stan - Freeform, Sebastian just really wanted coffee, give him his face back, he just wanted coffee and Steve said brick wall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-11 08:36:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capped/pseuds/capped
Summary: When Sebastian Stan moves to New York, he's hopeful for a fresh start away from the media. What he doesn't expect is to be on the receiving end of a manhunt lead by none other than Captain America himself, Steve Rogers.





	1. Chapter 1

In the thirty-two years Sebastian Stan had been alive, he had never wanted an iced coffee more. The hot sun beating down on the pavement made moving into his new apartment no easy chore, and avoiding recognition in the crowds on the busy streets of New York City was exhausting. Sebastian had decided to come back to NYC in between gigs and keep a low profile for a bit, both because the crowds provided shelter from the paps and no one really gave a damn if you were famous or not. It was the Empire City, after all, and _everyone_ had big dreams. Though it had been a while since he’d visited, Sebastian remembered a cute coffee shop not far from his building. The bell dinged as he swung the door open, cool air enveloping him and making the heat outside seem like a distant memory. He walked up to the counter with his hat pulled low over his face (like hell was he gonna get recognized) and ordered his drink. The barista was nice and made small-talk with him while she made his iced latte. She handed him his cup with a small smile and he turned to go- straight into another guy. His drink sloshed over onto his hand from the impact as strong hands settled around his arms to keep him from toppling over.

“Goddamnit, of fucking course,” Sebastian muttered under his breath, wiping his hand on his jeans. “Sorry.”

“Easy there buddy, don’t go falling over now,” came a deep voice. Sebastian looked up from his freshly spilt coffee to find himself face to face with a huge blond dude. The blue eyes looked amused, but grew wide after a second.

“Bucky?” he asked incredulously, hands still gripping Sebastian’s biceps.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Sebastian spluttered, still reeling from the collision. He had never heard of anyone called “Bucky”, and certainly had never gone by that name. He didn’t have time to get over his confusion before the big dude stuttered a quick apology with still-wide and stunned eyes, turned on his heel and quickly left the coffee shop. Sebastian just shook his head and looked down at his now half-full coffee cup. Sighing, he followed suit and exited, bell dinging annoyingly cheerily behind him- the loss of his coffee was decidedly _not_ cheery. At least he hadn’t been recognized- not really. Sebastian counted that as a win as he pulled his hat down and made his way back to his apartment.

\------

Steve had only made it a block or two before he had to stop for breath. He could have sworn that the jacketed man in Aristo’s was Bucky, down to the nose and everything. The eyes, the furrowed brow, even the string of curses flowing from his mouth were just as they had been etched in Steve’s memory. He had felt his heart jump into overdrive the moment he saw those eyes. It had been months since Bucky had dragged him from the river, and there hadn’t been a single trace of him- he was a ghost story yet again. And then there he was, ordering an iced coffee like it was no big deal. Steve laughed to himself, Bucky always had a sweet tooth, snagging caramels and other candies when they could spare the money back before the war. Even during the war, he preferred the sweet cigarettes over the ones most of the other guys smoked. Standing up straight, Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket and punched at the keys. His call was answered on the second ring. 

“Nat? Yeah, I just saw him. I’ll be back in five.”

Steve started back toward the tower, a giddy spring in his step as he pushed past civilians. Maybe their lives would finally align after seventy years. After all, everyone deserves their fairy tale ending, right? 

\--------

Going unnoticed in New York turned out to be harder than Sebastian had anticipated. So far, he’d been mobbed three times, once by a group of people dressed as Captain America (_what the hell was that about?_), and twice on his way back from the gym. It had only been two days. So, he took to sequestering himself in his little apartment when he didn’t have to be anywhere. He shared the little four room space with a cat named Alpine, a white stray he found on set one day a few months back. Sebastian had never really been one for pets, but coming home from a long day to Alpine twisting around his ankles was oddly therapeutic. The small cat helped ground him when he needed it and gave him a routine to stick to, something he appreciated.  


Though he loved Alpine, without any scripts to prepare or auditions to work towards, life at home was fairly boring. Sebastian had already mastered all the levels on mario-kart. So, watching the news it was. Blah blah shoplifting, blah blah weather, none of it was too interesting.  


“At least it doesn’t seem like we’re missing much out in the world,” Sebastian told the cat, who was curled up in his lap. Alpine blinked lazily up at him, green eyes bored as Sebastian ran a hand through the white fur.  


_“We have breaking news coming in from Manhattan,”_ the reporter (her name might have been Kate? It was something generic.) said. _“We have reports of rogue AIs roaming the city firing at civilians. Erica is live in the field.”_  


The camera cut to a short reporter, with debris flying in the background. Strange shapes were weaving in and out of the wreckage and people were running for cover. A streak of red and gold flashed past the camera, indiscernible in the mess.  


“Okay, maybe we’re missing a little,” Sebastian corrected, Alpine still indifferent to the chaos unfolding on screen.  


_“Yes, Kelly. Manhattan has been placed in a state of emergency and it is advised that everyone go to ground until the situation is handled. The Avengers are on scene, but there is no telling how long it will take to neutralize the threat.”_  


The camera cut again while Erica kept talking, this time focused on a group of civilians being herded into a building by a blue suit dappled with stars and stripes. He seemed urgent as he waved them into the building not a moment too soon. A bot came zooming towards the closing door, guns aimed to kill. The Captain flipped and threw his shield at the AI, taking it down and losing his helmet in one swift motion. He retrieved his shield, looking at the camera and seeming to yell at the crew to get away before the screen went black and reporting returned to the station. Sebastian wasn’t listening, distracted by the lingering image of blond hair and blue eyes just before the screen went dark. The _same_ blond hair he’d lost his coffee to two days ago. But that couldn’t be. Captain America in a small Brooklyn coffee shop? No fucking way. Pulling out his phone, he googled “steve rogers”. Sure enough, the crooked nose and eyes matched the ones written in his memory. He decided to pull a little harder on the string and get more answers while he was at it- maybe the internet could tell him who this “Bucky” person Captain America mentioned was. 

It turns out, the internet could tell him a _lot_. Sebastian had learned about Captain America’s heroics in school and his adventures with the Howling Commandos, but higher powers never deemed minute details of their lives necessary in public education. It clearly didn’t believe that the supposed relationship between one James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes and Steve Rogers was important, but the internet sure did. Sebastian rarely had time on set to keep up with news, and he hadn’t heard much about the wreck in the Potomac other than it was caused by said Captain America because of Nazi infiltration. But now, he knew that Captain America and his childhood best friend (lover??) turned brainwashed assassin fought during the wreck. Interesting. He scrolled down his current article and stopped at a slideshow of pap photos taken during a fight on a DC highway. The first few were of Steve, civilian clothes charred and shield in hand. There were a few slides of other people; a woman with wicked red hair mid-flip, and a bulky man with wings attached to his back. But the next picture stopped him in his tracks- the face staring back at was eerily similar to his own.  


“What the hell?” Sebastian muttered, shifting uncomfortably. He knew some of his fans photoshopped his face onto various pictures but this looked too real, too _genuine_ to be photoshop. The eyes were hard as steel, cold and unfeeling, yet the same shade as his own. The brown hair hung long and unkempt along the familiar jawline, and Sebastian found himself jogging his memory to make sure he hadn’t unconsciously fought Captain America- not that he would have even survived that fight. One look from that woman alone probably would have killed him. Seb ran a hand through his hair just to be sure- it was fairly long, but not as long as in these photos, and definitely never as greasy. Besides, the timestamp on the picture dated it in May, and his hair definitely hadn't been that long back then. He sat staring at the picture for a few minutes before it hit him.

“Motherfuck,” he said to no one in particular. Alpine just mewed solemnly back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian enjoys some time in the sun and Steve is in for a bit of a shock.

“He looked _good_, Nat, like healthy and not murderous and, he-he looked good,” Steve stammered. He had been pacing around the shared floor for the better part of half an hour, Natasha and Sam patiently listening while he rambled on about his brief Bucky sighting. 

“He’s a trained operative, Steve, he knows how to blend in with civilians,” Natasha started, looking up from her coffee cup when Steve let out a frustrated sigh. She softened a bit at Steve’s discouraged form, grabbing his arm before continuing, “I know you care about him, but brainwashed or not, he’s dangerous. You can’t go after him. Not yet.”

“We all know HYDRA is sniffing around, they won’t leave him alone for long. Sam, c’mon, you know I’m right here,” Steve turned pleading eyes on Sam for the first time, recognizing that rationalizing with Nat on this one was a lost cause. Nat would ever truly understand why Bucky mattered so much to him, but Sam had lost his best friend too. He, better than anyone, would understand. 

It was Sam’s turn to sigh as he stood and made his way to the counter, pouring himself a glass of water. “You know I’d do anything for you, man. Hell, I’ve only known you four months and I’ve already almost died for you. But this one? Nat’s right. He’s too unpredictable to go after and _man_, you don’t even know for sure it was him! The Winter Soldier,” Sam paused incredulously, hands gesturing manically with each point, “in a coffee shop? Make it make sense, Steve.”

Jaw clenched and shoulders square with stubborn resolve, Steve turned and braced on the windowsill, gazing at a changed skyline he was unsure he’d ever grow used to. Steve couldn’t help feeling disappointed and a little alone, hearing the words he’d expected with such finality. So, it would be just him again, like it was in Azzano back in the war. He’d find and protect Bucky to his last breath, even if Bucky was the one to make him take it. 

“They’ll kill him.” 

Nat’s voice was low, surprising Steve, feet padding on the floor as she left her perch on the sofa.  
“I know. That’s why I need to-”

“No. I’ll take care of it.” 

A quick peck on the cheek and then the soft click of the door told Steve that Nat was gone. 

\----

Since his discovery of his own menacing doppelganger, Sebastian tried to return to life as normal. He had given up on trying to hide in his apartment, much to Alpine’s dismay, and started up his morning runs around the city. There was something oddly serene about Brooklyn at four-thirty, where the sun brought the hope of a new day and the city was barely bristling with eager life. Sebastian followed the same path every day, a six mile circuit that twisted its way through a couple parks and ended by Aristo’s just as the shop opened. He was never a lone jogger, but his company was seldom and sparse. The first few days, he only passed a few people, but by the fifth day of his routine, he noticed a hoodied woman running a quarter mile behind him, always there, but somewhat at a distance. She was never near at the beginning or end of his run, so Sebastian just shook it off as someone with a similar schedule and interest in park routes.  
Sitting on the patio of Aristo’s was something of a novelty for Sebastian, so ending his jog stretched out in a wicker chair nursing an iced coffee was the closest to heaven he thought he’d ever get. He found something poetic about colors bleeding into the sky the same way as people began dripping into the streets. And yet, in this ever brightening world, Sebastian was invisible, allowed to remain unseen for just a small amount of time before he had to retreat back to his haven. Maybe, he thought, one day he’d bring watercolors and capture the beauty of Brooklyn at 5:30am. He wasn’t sure if cats could see color, but maybe Alpine could appreciate it then, too. 

\---  
As it happens, Sebastian was not good at watercolor. The pinks and oranges wouldn’t blend together right and his pages ended up looking more like a four year old with markers went ham than a stunning sunrise. Discouraged, Sebastian began packing up his supplies, scattered over his table at Aristo’s. He had begun visiting so often that the workers knew had his order ready and the other early morning patrons silently acknowledged that the small table on the patio was Sebastian’s. He was branching out, a good thing, he told himself. Swinging his bag over his shoulder, he started back toward his apartment, both eager to get home before the streets were crowded, and sad to leave the little bubble of the coffee shop. Sebastian was mulling over plans for the rest of the day when someone bumped into him. He looked around to find the perpetrator but saw no one. _Weird_, he thought, _then again, this is New York. Nothing’s exactly normal._ Pulling his cap down low, he broke into a jog, wanting to get home faster and push himself just that extra little bit.  
Sebastian was nearly a block from his apartment when it happened. It seemed to happen in slow motion, the initial hit, the rush of concrete jumping up to meet him, a blinding flash of pain, and then nothing.

\---

“Are you sure you’re ready to see him?” 

“If I say no, does that make me a coward?” Steve quipped, turning to face Natasha, eyes wide and bare. “I haven’t truly seen him in over seventy years, Nat. What if he doesn’t remember me? What if he doesn’t _want_ to remember me? I don’t know if I could handle that.”

The redhead just rubbed his shoulder before consoling, “He’s not the same man anymore. But there’s no way he could ever forget you. I mean, you said ten words and broke HYDRA’s most skilled assassin. And if it helps, he’s gonna be out for a while yet, you don’t even have to talk to him.”

Steve sighed, leaning into Nat’s touch, surprisingly gentle for someone who beats people up for a living. Steve’s mind was a wreck- giddy at the thought of Bucky being so, so close, yet absolutely terrified because Bucky might hate him. Steve didn’t save him all those years ago like he’d vowed to in their little shoebox in Brooklyn. Steve hadn’t kept him from the torture and misery HYDRA inflicted upon him. Steve would truly understand if Bucky hated him. But every molecule inside of him was shaking because maybe, just maybe, Bucky would still care about him the way he did so long ago. He stared up at the ceiling for a long minute, letting all his fears rattle around before silencing them one by one.

“Let’s go.”

\---  
Nat led the way to the medical floor, a floor that the entire team knew all too well. Tony had equipped it with the highest grade medical supplies Steve had ever seen (which, to be fair, had been limited to 1940s tech). He was glad Bucky was here, somewhere he’d be taken care of. Steve really had to hand it to Nat, though. Five days after silently slipping out of their team meeting, Natasha had shown up on his floor, combat suit pristine and beckoned him to follow her with a nod. She hadn’t given up exactly how she’d taken down the (ex?) Winter Soldier so easily, but she did reveal that she had been tracking his runs around Brooklyn (what was that about?) and that in his bag, she had found a watercolor set and some _terrible_ paintings. Cute. Back before the war, Steve had always been the artistic one, scrounging up the money for supplies whenever he could. Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen Bucky so much as lift a charcoal, but times change, right?

They stopped abruptly outside of a metal door. Quarantine room.  


“I’ll be waiting right out here,” Nat offered a hug, which Steve gratefully accepted. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Steve twisted the door handle and stepped into the room. For a quarantine room, it was nice. The blue walls were inviting, big windows showing the beautiful scenery outside. But the only view Steve cared about was the one lying still in the middle of the room. Bucky’s hair was fanned out under his head, longer and more well-kept than their meeting on the Helicarrier. Steve noted he was clean-shaven now too, and wondered how exactly a wanted assassin had access to hygiene products. Deciding it didn’t matter, Steve just drank in Bucky. For the first time in years, he felt grounded. His best friend was _right here_, and maybe he was drugged, but he was _there_. Steve reached out to touch his arm, to be sure it was real, and suddenly recoiled as if he’d been burnt.  
“Nat!” Steve yelled. The door quickly burst open and Nat edged her way in slowly, following her pistol. She lowered it in confusion when the scene inside was perfectly calm.

“I-Steve? What is it?” Nat questioned. 

“This isn’t him.”

“What do you mean, ‘this isn’t him’? That’s _literally_ his face.”

“The arm… it isn’t metal.”

Creeping closer to the bed, Nat pulled up the man’s sleeve, revealing flesh underneath. She sucked in a breath in shock.

“If this isn’t Bucky, then who the hell is it?”


End file.
